“Ky- Kyung- Ky- Kyungsoo-ah?”

Panting heavily, I banged on their wooden front door with my bare hands despite the brazen cold as I repeatedly called for Kyungsoo. My pulse was violently throbbing not only because I sprinted non-stop all the way, but also because of the paranoia that shrivelled my composed mind up little by little. My stomach was turning endlessly while my lungs struggled to respire.

I was worried sick.

“KYUNGSOO-AH!”

I kept both my fists tightly clenched; pounding on the door and crying out his name with the little stamina I had left. After what seemed like a ruthless eternity, there was no response, but I wasn’t going anywhere without any adequate proof that my bestfriend was – at the very least – alive and breathing.

“My hands – they’re… cold.”

I turned away from the door in haste and carelessly shuffled down the small steps on their porch. Gravel brushing against the soles of my ragged footwear, I ran to the small gate that concealed a part of their backyard and reached down through a small gap to unlatch the rusty hook with trembling fingers. After a couple of hurried attempts, a click resounded and I forcefully pushed the gate open.

It was as if a literal ray of hope came seeping through the skies when I looked up to see that the kitchen window was slightly opened. I put pressure on my right hand as I held onto the ledge, pushing myself up to widen the opening. Both of my legs dangled freely, and with a grunt, I bent both of my knees and propped them on the narrow pedestal. Thankfully, the opening was wide enough for me to squeeze through between the gaps, and after a series of pushing, tugging and pulling, I made it into the house.

I sprinted along their tapered corridor and accelerated my pace even more when I reached the stairs. Skipping steps, adrenaline pumped inside my body as I came to a halt in front of his bedroom door. I took a hold of the door knob, turning it as carefully as I could with moist hands.

The entire room was obscure as the drapes concealed the windows. Little natural light followed me, streaming in; when I left the door hanging open. Walking past Kyungsoo’s gigantic dresser, I caught sight of his bed. On it was a messy bundle of duvet and pillows spread all over a distinct figure.

Kyungsoo.

I edged myself closer to the side of the bed where his head peacefully lay. He sounded fast asleep – a very light snore was escaping out of his mouth, while a most anticipated sigh of relief escaped out of mine.

“Yah, Do Kyungsoo,” I mumbled, holding his forearm to shake him awake. But before I could put pressure on it, I pulled my hand away, overwhelmed.

His skin was ablaze.

Undoubtedly, it was a high fever, but I stretched my arm and felt his forehead to make out how severe it was. I flinched, because it felt as though he was in flames.

“Kyungsoo-ah?” I said, almost whispering, gently trying to bring him back into consciousness. My eyes lingered on his blood-drained face, although I couldn’t see him very clearly. His bee-stung lips twitched upon my call. A wrinkle soon formed along his forehead as he groaned and made the slightest movement to turn over. It looked like he was in dire pain.

“Hyemi-ah.”

A deep and a rather husky morning-voice called out my name, sending bottomless chills to tiptoe across my spine.

It was vastly weakening.

“You have a-”

“Mmmm- rrmmf- don’t- don’t go.”

It had been a short while since I’d last had a chance to feel the silky velvet entrenched within his voice – one that was more than enough to have me feeling euphoric.

“Don’t go.”

Although his mind was probably not in its normal functionality then and there, I still felt euphoric, and somehow… needed.

“I won’t,” I promised. I sat myself down on the carpeted floor and patiently waited for him to drift back to sweet sleep once more before opening the drapes; silently exiting the room to raid their bathroom for cold water and towels, and to make unexpected calls.

Mrs. Do was “eternally grateful” and “extremely relieved”. She’d also instructed me how to nurse and where to start – water, towels, basin, thermometers and chicken soup.

Jongin understood the situation, although I couldn’t tell him exactly what it was. I only told him what needed to be told; I was going to make up for it sometime. No matter how upsetting Kyungsoo had been, I needed to tend to him, and more importantly keep the promise I’d just made.

He was still in deep slumber when I’d done preparing the towels and some cold water. I lightly pressed the soaked cloth onto his blazing forehead and decided to leave it there until I’d finished making the chicken soup. Their cupboard barely had any leftover space, and I noticed that the second row was packed with bags of Lay’s – imported junk food Kyungsoo loved to eat.

After the soup had simmered down, I emptied and wiped the stove, washed the utensils and tidied the counter. Looking around, it really was the same kitchen I’d met years ago – nothing had been fixed or renovated whatsoever.

He lied.

But I shook off the thought for a moment, and transferred some soup into a small bowl and brought it upstairs. Upon entering his bedroom, I looked towards his bed to see that he had changed positions. I was going to have to wake him to make him eat, so I put the bowl first on top of his bedside table.

“Yah, look.”

I nearly spilt some of the hot liquid onto my hands when he spoke. Kyungsoo looked at me with non-blinking and heavy eyes, before motioning back to the window.

White flakes trailed off and danced with the wind, some caught on stray deciduous trees’ dull branches while some sliding against the window before landing onto the cold, hard ground.

It was snowing.

I turned back to Kyungsoo, who strongly appeared to be still lost within the breathtaking scene taking place. He looked pale and spent, with colossal eyebags dominating the space underneath his eyes. I took the soup bowl and handed it to him along with the spoon, but he only shook his head, rejecting my offer.

“You need to eat this. Your mother said so.” I tried sounding stern, but failed miserably. I simply couldn’t – not when he looked so weak and vulnerable.

“I’m guessing she’s told you, then?” he winched as he struggled to sit up.

I wasn’t certain which piece of information he was referring to – the divorce or the kitchen renovations. I assumed both.

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?” my voice trembled. I tried my hardest to ready myself for answers I really wasn’t ever going to be ready for.

“I didn’t know where to start, Hyemi,” he shut his eyes and bit his lower lip. “There’s a lot I wanted to let you know but-”

“But what? It was fun to leave me hanging? Was that it?”

“No, Hyemi-ah, listen-”

“Listen?” I splurted. “I’ve always listened, Kyungsoo. I’ve always listened to you. Heck, that was all I’d been doing, really.”

As I let out bitter words, I could feel my heart contracting, and it stung, causing hot tears to form. It wasn’t anger, but rather pure self-inflicted pain from all expectations and false hopes.

“Hyemi-”

“Do you know how much I’d been longing for you to talk to me again so I could listen? So I could still say to myself that I was only just still a ‘bestfriend’ you could run to and talk to so I could stop hoping for more? But what? You kiss me, then hold my hand, then lie to me, then eventually leave me hanging so I could- so I could hurt and- and hope for even more.”

I was now sobbing uncontrollably, my words slurred and a mess. I’d finally let my heart erupt, else I’d collapse from exhaustion and pressure. I couldn’t look at him in the eye, but he’d started to weep with me, and it made my own tears flow even further.

“I- I would have been happier just listening, Kyungsoo.”

But now I was tired.

“Hyemi-ah, will you please just let me explain to you-”

“Well, why don’t you just explain to her?” I yelled, startling him and even myself. “Maybe she’d be able to-”

“I can’t, Park Hyemi, I can’t!” he shouted back, raising both hands in mid-air in surrender. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle any explanations because I wasn’t in my right mind. The pain was eating me inside and out, and seeing him cry fuelled the agony even more.

“Oh, really?” I scoffed, “Why not? Maybe because-”

“Because there never was a her!”